


A Different Sequence

by SteamPoweredCrow



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 04:09:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18865420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteamPoweredCrow/pseuds/SteamPoweredCrow
Summary: As Jace Beleren worked to make something of his shattered life after he arrived on Ravnica, a chance event would cause ripples that could change the fate of the city-plane. And perhaps the whole Multiverse.





	A Different Sequence

Jace Beleren moved through the streets of Ravnica, tugging at the still unfamiliar clothing he wore. It had been a month since he had, arrived, in the sprawling city, and his mind still was trying to grasp what had happened to him. What had happened to his mind.

Moving among the crowds was not something he enjoyed, too many people moved around him, hundreds of disparate thoughts buzzing about. But it let him learn. For instance, he knew now that there was only the city, even thought such a thought was still strange to him. Endless streets and buildings, no expanses of wilderness that wasn’t once urban.

He picked through the minds of the passing travelers, his skimming pulling information from their minds. Images of the city’s streets, locations of businesses, notable upcoming events and important people all entered his mind. It was a familiar routine for him, and somehow, the act of stealthily puling information from someone’s mind came with practiced ease.

‘Is that what I am,’ he thought to himself as he slipped into a darken alleyway, ‘A spy of some sort?’

It was a well trodden path of thoughts. How many times in the last month had he mused, based on the abilities that came to him with ease, what his life had been like. Telepathy and illusions would lend themselves to being a spy, sneaking into somewhere, gathering information and getting out, with no one being aware of his presence.

And yet, when those thoughts came to him, an uneasy feeling washed over him. A mix of guilt and anger, oddly faded like an old slight, made him think he was betrayed, tricked into doing something he found abhorrent. But with no way of knowing what had transpired, he pushed those thoughts aside. His survival was more important than any past transgression, and he would use whatever tools he could use.

And beyond the magic and skills that he had, what else did he have. A name that felt right, a symbol he had a Gruul shaman brand onto his flesh to serve as a permanent reminder, clothes that didn’t match anything around him, and a note, scrawled as small as his hand could write.

It was the only piece of history he had, and it didn’t make for a happy narrative. His mind had be erased by someone, the name had not been transcribed but it had to have been someone close to him, a mentor, family member, a fellow student. None of those answers pulled anything from the wreckage of his mind, and the idea was too depressing for him to dwell on them.

The other subject the paper held was something far more interesting, and with less potential pain. Planeswalker. Every time his eyes read the word, or he though those syllables, it felt right. One who could travel between worlds. It certainly explained things. Why his clothing didn’t match, why his name sounded so different from the citizens of the massive city. Maybe even why he had his talents.

He could leave Ravnica, if that note was true. Nothing here bound him, beyond a sense of owing Emmara for the aid she gave him. That only felt right. But did he want to leave. An errant memory, no, more an echo of a memory, came to him when he contemplated leaving.

A woman’s voice, calm and caring, spoke of cities and scholars. Who was she? His mother, a mentor? No matter how hard he tried, nothing more that a few seconds of her voice came to him. No face, no emotion, no clues.

‘I’ll stay for now,’ Jace thought as he noted the sun was nearing its zenith, ‘Once I pay back Emmara, I’ll figure something out.’

Paying back the blonde elf was his first priority, then he could plan his next step. And he had an idea as to how to make money.

* * *

Moving about at night wasn’t as easy as it would seem. True, the light of the sun was gone, but various other bits of illumination took its place. Magical light, pure spheres of varying colors, cast back the shadows in the streets and businesses, while in homes, candles and gaslights burned. And that made skulking about harder.

Jace focused on maintaining the illusion around him, one of a less notifiable figure. It was far easier to masquerade as someone else, than have to worry about erasing his image from anyone’s mind. Plus he was still close enough to Ovitzia that someone might notice him coming and going from Emmara’s place.

He had spent the last few days picking his mark, some well-to-do businessman who was operating in the black markets of the city. More than that were the bribes he passed to the right Boros and Azorius officials to ensure they didn’t interfere in his business. And Jace had pulled the proof he needed from the minds of the involved.

He slipped into the business, the name above the door read ‘Tamir’s Curios and Imports’. Jace pushed aside the errant thoughts about why imports would matter in a world-wide city, or if the proprietor meant he dealt in objects from the far edges of Ravnica and focused on his job. The establishment was quiet, only the owner, his target, was inside, standing at the counter.

“Ah,” he said, “Welcome my friend. How may I help you?” His tone was friendly, if a bit worn by a day’s work, but Jace could hear his thoughts loud and clear, ‘Damn it. Vosk’s going to be here soon and he’s not going to like waiting.’

‘Good,’ Jace thought, even as he told the man he was just browsing for now, ‘His contact is still coming. Time to apply the pressure.’

Jace moved through the shelves, casually surveying each item. He had already made a catalog of the items during his assessment of the man, but now he was killing time. This Vosk was, from what he had pulled from Tamir’s mind, not a patient man. And by preventing their meeting, Jace was counting on Tamir to want to be rid of him, more than miss the meeting.

He approached the counter, causing the owner to perk up. The look of relief faded as Jace only presented a piece of paper, instead of an item to be purchased.

“What’s the deal,” he spat out, “We don’t take I.O.U.s….”

He paled as he noticed what was written on the note. Jace smiled behind his illusion. The paper, in reality was blank, but thanks to his magic, listed named and deeds Tamir would rather remain a secret. At the bottom was his demands. A small enough sum, for the black market dealer, but a good starting point for Jace’s plans.

Tamir’s eyes flashed from the note to the clock on his wall, his face growing red. Jace couldn’t help but hear his thoughts.

‘How did someone find out? I was careful. Am I being set up? Is this kid someone’s runner?’

Jace frowned that the man thought he was working under someone, but realized that could work to his favor later on. For now, he continued to read the man’s mind, ready to flee if he choose to fight.

“Alright,” Tamir finally said, his tone low and hushed, “I’ll pay. Just make sure you tell whoever you work for that I didn’t make any fuss.”

He briskly made his way over to one of the walls and slid back a panel, revealing a safe. He whispered a word and the safe swung open. A moment later, he deposited thirty zinos into a nondescript money pouch and pushed it into Jace’s hands.

“Alright, we’re done here, right,” Tamir said, his thoughts becoming more agitated as the clock ticked down. Jace nodded and turned to exit. He half expected the man to move to attack him once his back was turned, but his thoughts were more concerned with who his ‘employer’ was and how he came to be in his sights.

Jace left, unscathed, and moved down the streets at a brisk pace. Twenty yards from the store, once he was sure no one was around, Jace canceled his illusion. He couldn’t help but to smile.

‘Thirty zinos,’ he gleefully thought, ‘I thought for sure he’d try to lower it.’

His paced slowed and he ducked into a narrow alleyway as raucous cries reached his ears from some distance ahead. He allowed himself to rest along the alley’s cold stone wall, his mind jumping to the next act of blackmail he could preform.

‘I shouldn’t go after the black market again,’ he reasoned, ‘Too risky. Those kinds of people are dangerous and probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if they found me. No, there are plenty of people who have enough money to be doing something wrong with it. If I take some it, they can do less harm.’

A scream broke his thoughts and Jace reflexively reached out. Not just one scream, but several echoed of the buildings around.

“Some kind of attack,” he said aloud as the terrified thoughts crashed into his extended senses, “A Gruul riot. Here?” It was a bit surprising, as the Rumblebelt was a good distance away, but when had territory ever stopped someone who wanted to cause pain and destruction?

He noted where the attacks were happening, from both victim and assailant. He could map a safe way around the riot, evade danger and safely make it back to Emmara’s. But as someone he could reach was cut down, his thoughts fading away, he couldn’t turn away.

‘Am I a kind man?’ Those had been his thoughts after he dredged up his name from the wreck that was his memory. ‘Do I want to be the person who would run when he has the power to help?’

He began to move, not away from the violence, but towards it. ‘Maybe I can’t stop all of them, but I can distract them with illusions. Lead them away.’

Before Jace could move to save people, an attack he couldn’t anticipate. A rock the size of his closed fist sailed through the air and bounced off the alley’s entrance. It ricocheted and hit Jace right above his left eye. He crumpled to the ground with an unceremonious thud.

* * *

“Got another one,” a gruff, tried voice said somewhere above Jace, “Blasted Gruul, making a mess of things.”

‘Gruul,’ Jace’s thoughts came slowly and muddled, ‘I’m not Gruul.’

Another voice sounded nearby, “Just throw him down the hole. Should be room in the lowest levels. Looks like he could use a bath anyway.”

‘I’m not dirty,’ was Jace’s unfocused thought as he was moved. ‘Wait. I’m moving. No, someone’s moving me. What happened?’

Jace tried to remember what happened. Slowly, his memory came to him. The blackmailing, the riots. The sudden pain above his eye. He could feel that pain now, a dull throbbing that was slowing growing worse as his heart was picking up speed. Other things began to come to him. The sticky sensation of blood ran down his face from the wound on his brow. The smell that was slowing becoming more potent burned his nose.

He must have reacted to the stench, as the man moving him let out gruff chortle. “Better get used to that smell, boy. It’s your new home calling.”

Jace tried to say something, but it came out a garble that earned him a swift jab to the ribs. Time passed between that assault and the next thing Jace knew was the smell had grown exponentially stronger. Along with the increased smell, was an increase in minds. There had to be dozens pressed around him, but he couldn’t count them. They blurred into one mass of pain, anger, anguish and despair.

A jostling movement cut Jace from reality and the next thing he knew was he was on his back, cold water soaking into his clothes. He tried to pull himself up, but his body felt like it was filed with lead and he gave up after three tries.

Instead he reached out with his mind, trying to find answers. He flinched when he slipped into the nearest mind. Minds stood out as delicate to him, like crystal sculptures he had to move though with care, lest he damage them. The mind he found had cracks were everywhere, the whole structure of his mind one step away from collapsing.

He moved with a slow, methodological pace. What he saw made nearly made him vomit. The man was Golgari, and had been just minding his own business when the Azorius came sweeping into the Undercity and arrested him, and everyone in the area. What followed was beatings, riots, more beatings.

Jace pulled away as delicately as possible, though a small part of him wondered if leaving the man’s mind intact was a worse fate than simply rendering him catatonic. He found other minds around him, all with the same story. Some were in as bad a shape as the first, others bore their internment with more resolve, ready to stage another uprising if given the chance.

He was about to retract his telepathic probe, when he caught another mind. Unlike the others, all cramped in the cells, it stood alone. Jace studied it for a moment, wondering why someone down here was kept apart from the others. Their mind didn’t bare the same damage as its fellows. There was the signs of the abuse, that stood out clear to him, but the cracks were less apparent, and the light of the will within burned like a bonfire compared to others around.

It still was a mind under great stress, so Jace tread carefully as he slipped into its passages. He stopped, however, before he could pull even at the surface thoughts.

‘This is someone’s who’s still fighting. No, not just fighting. They still have the will to leave. To escape. Even the more sound minds here just want to hurt to guards. I shouldn’t just barge in. That’ll make me like the Azorius.’

Instead, he reached to the outermost part of that mind, and, for lack of a better term, knocked.

Jace felt the mind stir from the sudden sensation and began to address them, ‘Um, hi.’

‘Who’s there,’ the mind’s voice responded. It was a woman’s voice, with a raspy quality to it, one that Jace didn’t attribute to misuse or damage.

‘OK, first, don’t panic, but I’m in a cell near yours and I’m using telepathy to reach you. That’s a kind of...”

‘I know what telepathy is,’ she responded, anger coloring her thoughts, ‘Don’t think because I’m a gorgon I don’t know what mind magics are.’

‘Sorry,’ Jace hastily thought back, ‘I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m not really thinking completely straight, took a rock, I think, to the head earlier. I didn’t know you’re a gorgon. Never met one. Wait, I’m getting off track, sorry. Where were we?’

‘Should you really be using telepathy if your mind is so scrambled,’ the gorgon asked, a nervous lilt to her thoughts, ‘I really don’t want to lose my mind down here.’

‘Probably not,’ Jace responded truthfully, ‘But I’m being careful. Barely touching your mind, don’t worry. Anyway, I think I can get us out of here.’

‘Out,’ she responded, hope seeping into her projected voice, ‘Can you really get all of us out?’

‘I can try,’ Jace thought back, ‘I’ve got a few ideas. If I can get into a guard’s mind, I can get him to open the doors. Then we can get out.’

‘Why didn’t you do something like that when they brought you in?’

‘Head trauma,’ Jace responded, ‘There was a riot outside, and I got caught trying to help. Or, well, I was about to help, and got hit before I could do anything.’

‘Sounds like you’re a bad luck magnet,’ she thought back, a dark mirth coloring her statement.

‘Yeah, that seems to be a theme for my life lately.’

‘But it’s not like we’re spoiled for choice right now. The guards may not come down for a while, but they usually make a lot of noise, so we’ll know when they’re coming.’

‘So we wait,’ Jace thought, trying to maintain a positive outlook. ‘Want to keep talking? Or we can stop if you want.’

‘No,’ she responded, ‘Talking’s fine. It’s, been a while since I’ve had anyone to talk to.’

Jace could feel the desperation in her thoughts and something resonated with him. A sense being alone, isolated by something stirred up emotions from a forgotten memory.

‘OK, we can talk. Anything in particular?’

She was silent for a moment, keeping her thoughts from their telepathic link. ‘Can you tell me your name? You haven’t mentioned that.’

‘Oh, yeah, my name. Sorry, still a little mixed up. I’m Jace. Jace Beleren.’

‘Vraska,’ came her reply, ‘Your name sounds weird.’

‘Yeah, that’s a long story. But not really. It’s, complicated.’

‘We’ve got time. And it’s been too long since I’ve read a good story.’

And so, Jace began to tell his story, finding it surprising easy to reveal his strange history. Maybe she’ll think he was mad. Maybe he was, but having someone to talk to felt good. As he finished his recounting, he silently swore he’d get out them out. That was what he was going to do. That was the man he was going to be. The kind that did what he could to reach his goals.

* * *

 


End file.
